Not Today
by sablize
Summary: He knows he's being reckless but he doesn't care, because this is Carn and he just needs to know that he's alive. Roran/Carn. AU.


**Title: **Not Today

**Author: **sablize

**Character/Pairing: **Roran/Carn

**Summary:** He knows he's being reckless but he doesn't care, because this is Carn and he just needs to know that he's alive. Roran/Carn. AU.

**Spoilers:** Brisingr and Inheritance

**Disclaimer: **Fortunately, I don't own it.

**Author's Notes: **This is one of those things where you write it, are confused as to where it even came from, decide it's a bad idea to post, then say "fuck it" and post it anyways. Basically, I should really stop getting in the habit of writing fanfiction for series I don't even like.

That said, this was just begging to be done, because Carn is one of the more likable characters and there needs to be more Roran/Carn in this world. So I'm turning the three Roran/Carn fics into four.

Set in Inheritance, AU for obvious reasons. Named for the Hudson song I couldn't stop listening to while writing.

* * *

He needs to see him.

There's this ache that has settled heavily across his chest, burning in his lungs and twisting his stomach in anxiety. As he stands from where the blast has sent him tumbling, ignoring the scream of pain in his limbs, all he can see is both spellcasters, collapsed.

_Please don't be dead, please, please_, Roran thinks desperately, moving as fast as his legs can carry him towards his fallen friend, _please don't be dead, not today_. Everything else has vanished; he pays no mind to the fallen soldiers struggling to stand or the charred rubble of the fountain or the time slowly ticking away. He knows he's being reckless but he doesn't care, because this is _Carn_ and he just needs to know that he's _alive_.

He lets his hammer clatter to the ground as he kneels beside his friend. It looks as though all the life has been sucked out of him; his skin is deathly pale, and the only color on his face is a thin stream of blood running from his nose. The sight sends Roran's heart plummeting from his chest down to his toes, and he hurriedly presses his fingers to Carn's neck, searching for a pulse because he just has to _know_—

An agonizing second passes. Then, he feels it. A heartbeat.

_He's alive_.

"Alive," Roran breathes, his eyes falling closed in relief. "Alive."

"Then we need to get him out of here," a voice from behind him says. Baldor. Delwin is beside him, and, behind them, the rest of the Varden is assembling.

Roran nods and, after quickly confirming that the other spellcaster is dead, he looks around and calls out a few men from the crowd. "Stay behind with the wounded, especially _him_," he addresses the men, pointing to Carn. "Take _him_—them—back to camp if you have to, but do not allow them come to any further harm. Understood?" The men nod their assent, and Roran turns from them to face the enemy soldiers and guards, now assembled and rushing at them.

"Ready?" murmurs Delwin from beside him.

Roran spares a last glance at Carn's body, feeling hot anger rush through him at the sight of his exhausted, unconscious friend, and says, with steel in his voice, "Yes."

—

Every bone in his body aches, but he just needs to see him.

"_No_, Stronghammer," Brigman says sternly, pushing him back down. "You have just barely regained consciousness. You are injured and you are weak and you are going nowhere like this."

"Carn could be dying or already dead," Roran says angrily, glaring and ignoring the throbbing pain that has settled in his bones. "I want to see him."

"And what could you do if he was?" Brigman retorts. "You're not all-powerful, Stronghammer, if you'll recall. You're no healer."

Roran stalls, and finds he cannot quite form his desire into words. "I just—I just…"

Brigman just shakes his head in slight exasperation. "Rest. The remaining men will secure the palace, and someone will be sent to fetch you if Carn's condition improves."

Roran gulps. "Is he… is he still unconscious, then?"

"He expended nearly all of his energy today," Brigman reminds him, as he heads for the door. "He will need time to recover that which he has lost."

Roran nods his bitter understanding, and the former commander leaves without another word.

And thus he waits.

—

It is late at night, and Nasuada's teardrop face is just fading from the mirror when he sees Carn at last, in the reflection.

He turns so quickly that the blood rushes to his head and he is momentarily blinded, but when the spots clear from his vision Carn is still there, smiling wanly and looking utterly exhausted but _alive_.

The grin that spreads across Roran's face only intensifies the pain of his injuries, but he doesn't care. "Glad to see you awake."

Carn's gaze drops to the floor and he nods. "They were going to send someone to fetch you," he says, shyly daring to meet Roran's gaze once more. "You know, to tell you that I was conscious. But I wanted to come up on my own, if only to get away from all the healers hovering around me."

"To be fair," Roran says as he stands, "you _have_ been unconscious for over half the day." He walks to Carn and places his hands on his shoulders, giving him a quick once-over; he still looks deathly pale, too thin and almost sickly, and there are dark shadows underneath his eyes that make him look as though he's been awake for days. Roran sighs softly, seeing the sadness behind his friend's eyes, and knows that this battle has had deeper effects than those that lie on the surface. "I was worried about you, too."

Carn blushes slightly and ducks his head again, peering up at him through his lashes. "Well—I'm here, now."

Roran says nothing, just regards him for a moment more and then pulls him into the tightest hug his aching limbs will allow. Carn tenses for half a second before he relaxes into the embrace, squeezing him back gently.

They stay like that for a long time.

As they pull away, there are a thousand things Roran wants to say—_I'm glad you're alive_ and _I don't want to lose you_ and _I don't know what I'd do if you were gone_—but he says none of them. Instead, in a moment of recklessness, he simply presses his lips to Carn's forehead, as softly and hesitantly as he can manage.

And then, as he is pulling away, Carn tilts his chin upwards and presses his lips to his.

In any other circumstance, on any other day, Roran might have stepped away, might have thought of Katrina and their child—today, however, he doesn't. He is too tired to resist, too tired to push away comfort when it is freely being given. So he lets himself drown in it, tracing his fingers delicately across Carn's jaw line and relishing the feeling of fingers weaving through his hair, pulling him closer.

It might be a second or a minute or a year before they break apart at last, foreheads still resting together, retaining their closeness. Roran is so lost in Carn's honey-colored eyes that at first he doesn't realize how much his friend is shaking.

"Are you alright?" he asks anxiously, grasping one of his trembling hands.

"I'm fine," Carn replies, and his voice is almost perfectly steady, to Roran's surprise. "Just… surprised that you kissed me back, is all."

Roran shakes his head with some measure of exasperation and kisses him again.

—

If any are awake enough—or bold enough—to check up on Roran during the night, they never arrive.

So no one sees how Roran drapes his arm across Carn's chest as they lie there in the ornate four-poster bed, as he tries to fall asleep without jarring any of his injuries. No one sees how Carn tries to soothe him, running his fingers gently through his hair and offering to try and magic away some of the pain—to which Roran strongly and immediately objects to.

And no one sees Roran as he presses a soft kiss to the underside of Carn's jaw, and no one sees Carn's answering sigh of contentment as he smiles blearily. No one sees them as they slowly drift off to sleep, locked in the other's comforting embrace. No one sees them as they sleep deeply and peacefully, with no nightmares to awaken them. And no one sees them when they wake at last, many long hours after dawn, and smile lazily at each other.

But _they_ see, and—even though they have no idea what they're doing, and even though they know it will not last, cannot last—it still manages to be enough.

* * *

**If you leave a review, please, no Inheritance spoilers. **I'm not even halfway through yet.

**ETA:** As I attempt to plod through this doorstopper of a book, I might end up expanding this to keep from losing my sanity (as in, like, maybe thinking up interesting scenes to stick a still-alive Carn in will lessen my urge to throw the book at the wall). So, stay tuned.


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